The Detective's Daughter
by GoldStarGrl
Summary: "Sherlock, who's...who's this?" "Well..She's my daughter." A strange little girl shows up on Baker Street. And she needs help. Based off Moffat's "The Doctors Daughter."
1. Chapter 1

The rain was pounding down on the roof of the flat. John sat at his computer, sipping tea as he proof-read his latest blog post. Sherlock sprawled out by the window, hands clasped in prayer as he looked out at the stormy skies, thinking.

He glanced down at the street below, seeing a dozen or so people running with umbrellas or hands above them, jackets pulled taunt against the elements. One of the figures turned left, ducking under the Speedy's awning.

"John, make sure to open the door. We have a guest." He murmured. John looked up, an eyebrow raised.

"I didn't hear a knock."

_Clunk-Clunk_

Sherlock smirked. John rolled his eyes and stood.

"How do you do tha..." He faded off as he opened the door. "Oh, hi sweetie." His voice immediately changed to something sweeter, softer.

"John, why is there a child at our door?" John sighed through his nose.

"How can you even tell, your back is turned."

Sherlock scoffed. "I judged by the alarming amounts of condescension in your voice." He stood. "Paired with the smell of perfume only worn by office receptionists and-" He turned around. "Teenage girls."

The girl at the door had dark hair with spring curls that hung in her face. She was thin with high cheekbones and alabaster skin. Her jacket was wet from running in the rain. Her eyes, darting and grey, looked up at Sherlock with curiosity.

Sherlock strode to the door and peered down at her. "If you're here to hire us for an investigation we're closed. Come back in the morning."

She smirked. "Please, anything worth finding out I can do on my own."

John bit back a shocked chuckle. Sherlock's eyes widened slightly, but they quickly narrowed again.

"Quite a lot of cockiness from someone whose...thirteen?"

"Fourteen." She shot back. "It's not cockiness if you're good at what you do."

Sherlock stared at her intently. John coughed awkwardly, causing both the girl and Sherlock to look at him. He smiled uncomfortably, leaning down a bit so he was at eye level with the girl.

"Sorry, honey, but, who exactly are you?"

She raised an eyebrow and pouted. "I thought it was obvious. Apparently not. Disappointing."

"Maybe not to the average mind but to an extraordinary one it is transparent." Sherlock spoke sharply from behind John.

John groaned in exasperation. "Then ENLIGHTEN me, oh Great One. Sherlock, who's...who's this?"

Sherlock glanced at John, then back at the girl. His eyes scanned her.

_Private school_

_Single parent household_

_Type AB blood_

_European decent_

_High intelligence_

_No respect for authority_

The facts all added up. There was no denying it. He swallowed, looking the tiniest bit uncomfortable.

"Well, She's...she's my daughter."

John's mug crashed to the floor and broke into a hundred pieces. The girl smirked and looked at Sherlock with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

"Hello dad."


	2. Chapter 2

"How in the HELL do you have a daughter? I didn't even think you'd had sex!"  
John had pulled Sherlock into the kitchen, leaving the girl standing in the doorway. He had a tight grip on Sherlock's arm as he swung him around to face him. Sherlock yanked away, a slight tinge of pink coloring his cheeks.  
"I hardly see how that's relevant. I thought it was painfully obvious she wasn't...conceived the usual way." He pulled his dressing gown more tightly around him and shrugged. "I donated sperm when I was in university."  
"You WHAT?"  
"Oh, stop acting so shocked. People do it every day."  
"Yeah, but you..."  
Sherlock threw his hands in the air.  
"I needed money and they pay you extra if you're high intelligence."  
John opened and shut his mouth a few times, like a fish gasping for air.  
"Your daughter..."  
Sherlock shot him a look.  
"She's not my daughter. She's just the product of a simple biological reaction."  
John gulped and cast a furtive look out to the door. The girl was picking up various knick-knacks and examining them. She caught him looking and nodded. John whirled back around to yell at Sherlock, who was doing the same thing with kitchen utensils. He snapped and Sherlock reluctantly put the spoon down. John leaned in, whispering.  
"Whatever you want to call her, she clearly wants something from you." He shook his head. "We have to talk to her."  
Sherlock made a face liked he'd rather be dragged through a mile of broken glass.  
"Fine." He muttered.

* * *

"So...what's your name, love?"  
John sat in his chair and Sherlock in his. The girl was on the wooden stool across from them. To the average eye, it could've been any ordinary case. Although John couldn't imagine being farther from ordinary.  
"My name's Ginny Smith." She said flatly. John smiled too brightly.  
"Beautiful name." He leaned over his shoulder to look at Sherlock, who was watching Ginny with his hands pressed to his mouth in prayer. "Isn't it?"  
"Good as any, I suppose." Sherlock mumbled. He lifted his hands away then.  
"I take it this is not a finding-my-real-dad-and-making-all-my-dreams-come-true expedition because if that was the case I assure you you'd be severely disappointed. " Sherlock said.

Ginny rolled her eyes.  
"I need assistance. I came about my mother, Laura Smith." She pulled a small photo of a smiling blonde women out of her jacket pocket.  
"She conceived me using your sperm fourteen years ago. Two days ago, she disappeared."  
Sherlock picked up the photo and scanned it.  
"You want me to find her. I told you I'm not accepting cases until our open hours tomorrow. Goodbye."  
John's mouth fell open.  
"Sherlock, there is a child...your child... with a missing mother and no where to stay, we're not shoving her out on the street."  
"She...is not...my child." Sherlock seethed.  
Ginny held up a hand to John  
"No, it's alright." She took a couple steps foreword. If she was taller, she and Sherlock would've been nose to nose. Now though, she had to settle for glaring at his chest.  
"I never said I needed you to find her. Making deductions rather fast, aren't we?" She brushed her hair out of her face. "I'M going to find her. You're just going to help."  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow and John bit back a smile.  
"I'm sorry?"  
Ginny turned away, looking out the window at the still raging storm  
"I'm, physically at least, still a child. There are a few things I need an adult's cooperation to obtain."  
"Such as?" Sherlock tried to sound haughty, but seemed more confused by the second. Ginny pulled a manilla folder from her pocket and started spreading the papers across the kitchen table.  
"I'll need access to several video surveillance units, a base to store all my findings and transportation to and from locations. I know the last one is trivial but I am only in year 9 and some laws just can't be avoided." She spun to face them at this, finishing her little monologue with a flourish.  
"Holy shit." John blurted out. Sherlock sighed.  
"I thought we were done with the exclamations at brilliance John." He looked at Ginny.  
"Why should I help?"  
Ginny sat down opposite him.  
"It's an interesting case. And if you're anything like me-"  
"Oh, he is." John snorted, wide-eyed and nodding knowingly to himself. Ginny continued like she hadn't heard him.  
"-It will drive you mental if you don't figure out why a perfectly normal schoolteacher was kidnapped off the streets of London without any warning."  
Sherlock paused. And weighed his options.  
"Fine." He said slowly. "You can sleep on the couch."  
Ginny scoffed. "As if I could sleep with something like this going on."  
John blinked. Then he blinked harder. She was still there.  
"Yeah. You're both mental. I'm going to bed." He waved his coffee mug above him as he trundled down the hall, still shaking his head.  
Ginny flopped down on couch, yanking Sherlock's laptop off the table and starting to type furiously. Sherlock cocked his head, watching her work. A few moments later she looked up coldly.  
"Can I help you?" She said. Sherlock's face remained expressionless.  
"What are you looking up?" Ginny didn't glance up, but kept typing.  
"The Manson family." She said, twirling her hair around her finger.  
"What?"  
"I like to read up on psychopaths. Serial killers. Learn what makes them do the things they do."  
Sherlock leaned foreword oh-so-slightly, peeking at the screen.  
"So you can stop them?"  
Ginny snorted, her eyes still scanning.  
"Why would I stop them? I think they're brilliant."  
Sherlock nodded.  
"I know. But still, people have died because of their actions."  
Ginny shrugged.  
"What does that matter?" She looked up him with a knowing look in her eye. "That's the way most brilliant people go. You can't be evil without the genius. And vise versa."  
"Yes you can." Sherlock said softly. He was looking at Ginny strangely.  
"You have a choice. Everyone has a choice."  
Ginny just snorted. Sherlock felt something in his stomach twist unpleasantly.  
Without speaking, he turned on his heel and stormed down the stairs. He walked into the night air, fishing a pack out from his emergency stash hidden by the door.  
He lit up, staring at the London skyline. Like the thousands of new fathers before him, he smoked a cigarette and tried to understand what the hell had just happened.


	3. Chapter 3

**[A/N: I would absolutely LOVE if someone would design a cover for this. PM me of you want to submit one or are interested.]**

Mrs. Hudson heard a lot of things coming from the flat above her. Gunshots, violin sonatas, John's long arguments with girlfriends about how he was not sleeping with Sherlock on the side. But the one thing she'd never heard was a high pitched voice yelling about their freedom as a citizen of Great Britain at 6 AM.  
She blearily put on her dressing gown and shuffled up the stairs to the boy's flat, just to make sure everything was alright.  
She opened the door slowly, peeking in before going in.  
She did not expect the sight that lay before her.  
Ginny was standing on the couch, wearing a pair of John's old biking shorts and tee shirt under her black jacket. John was sitting at the table, typing furiously and glancing up at the scene every few seconds, as if taking notes. Sherlock stood in his pajamas and glared up at Ginny, who towered a few inches over him on the cushions.  
"Oh my, what's this?" Mrs. Hudson said. Sherlock's gaze didn't waver from Ginny's as he answered her.  
"Ginny was using my microscope without asking." He said. John rolled his eyes.  
"Seriously. Do you seriously have no idea how childish that sounds?"  
"I needed it, I was looking at clothing fibers." Ginny shot back. The little girl-Ginny-looked very familiar, Mrs. Hudson thought to herself. Though she couldn't put her finger on why. Sherlock glared at her.  
"That doesn't give you the right to touch my things!"  
"Freedom of investigation! If I'm going to request a search-and-seizure from a suspect, I need to know what I'm looking for!" Ginny threw her arms in the air at that. Her voice was so thick with condensation and sarcasm Mrs. Hudson half expected her to snap her finger and say "Duh!"  
Sherlock stood tight-lipped and frustrated for a second. Then, quick as a flash, he bent over and yanked his scarf out from under the sofa cushion Ginny was standing on, sending her toppling over.  
Mrs. Hudson gasped. John jumped up and rushed to Ginny's aid, helping her up.  
"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson reprimanded. Sherlock just glared at Ginny as he tied his scarf.  
"Go. Home." He said shortly.  
"No." She fired back.  
He let out a half-groan, half-yell of frustration, like a child not getting his way. He stormed out the doorway, grabbing Mrs. Hudson by the arm.  
"We're going to your kitchen!" He said, loudly and unevenly. Mrs. Hudson squeaked as she was jerked down the stairs.  
"Oh my."

* * *

"She walks around like she's God's gift to mankind, she never stops talking, and that STUPID jacket. It never comes off!"  
Sherlock was pacing back and forth across Mrs. Hudson's kitchen, his arms waving madly around his head. Mrs. Hudson smiled and sipped her tea. After the initial shock of who Ginny was wore off, she was handling Sherlock's antics as well as always.  
"In other words, she's just like you."  
Sherlock glared at her sharply.  
"Don't be ridiculous."  
Mrs. Hudson gave him a reproachful look.  
"An exhausting teenager with a funny old head? Sounds like a Holmes to me."  
Sherlock stopped pacing.  
"She is NOT a Holmes. She knows NOTHING about what it means to be like me. To know the pure insanity, the HELL it is to be in this  
head." He jabbed his temple. Mrs. Hudson stood at that, her hands on her hips.  
"Now you sit down and listen to me." her voice was high and quivery as always, but carried an edge not usually heard. Her eyes had narrowed.  
Forget bombs, terrorists or snipers. Nothing made Sherlock obey faster than an angry Mrs. Hudson. He dropped on to the stool and crossed his arms. Mrs. Hudson sat down next to him, gripping her teacup.  
"Now, I never had any children. I've got a bad hip, you know, not safe for pregnancy-"  
Sherlock gave a pointed sigh and she continued, brushing a loose curl out of Sherlock's eyes.  
"But do you remember all those years ago? When you got me out of a spot of trouble when my husband was in Florida?"  
Sherlock nodded silently. Mrs. Hudson walked to her counter and started making Sherlock a cuppa.  
"How old were you then?" She called over her shoulder.  
Sherlock shrugged, pulling his collar up over his cheeks like he was hiding from the question.  
"Sixteen." He spat softly. Mrs. Hudson nodded and chuckled lightly, remembering Sherlock with his braces and mismatched trainers storming in the courtroom with an FBI file he'd dug up out of nowhere.  
"You were brilliant when you were her age." She pushed the cup across the table to him. "Oh dear, just give that little girl a chance."  
Sherlock sighed and let his coat fall from his chin and back to his shoulders.  
"Fine." He said softly. Mrs. Hudson patted his hand.  
"Drink your tea love." She said softly, sipping her own. Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
"You're not my mother."  
"No." Said Mrs. Husdon. "But you're her father."

* * *

**The Blog of John H. Watson**  
_The Detective's got a Daughter? UPDATE_  
{Posted at 6:38 A.M}  
_Ginny's still in our apartment, eating a ham sandwich and scribbling something into a spiral notebook. She's been going on about how some clothing fibers she found on near her mum's abduction site are from an Italian suit. I don't know how she's going to construct an entire suspect list from that._  
_And then I remember who she is._  
_Speaking of which, the new father's just come into the living room after having one of his meltdowns. He's snatched the notebook away from Ginny and is analyzing it. Ginny went to fetch his microscope. The two are now arguing about the merits of interviewing a tailor._  
_I don't know wether I'm pleased he's behaving or horrified that there's two of them. Stay tuned._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
Lestrade jogged up the stairs to the flat early the next morning, around eight. He didn't knock, but let himself in. He didn't know why Sherlock never locked his door. He probably liked the idea of someone getting in and trying to kill him. He saw a figure, presumably John, sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper in front of his face. Sherlock sat across the table, typing something on his laptop.  
"Boys, we got a weird one." He announced to no one in particular.  
John walked by him with a coffee mug, his face still mildly stunned.  
"So do we." He mumbled. Lestrade raised an eyebrow and jerked his head towards the table.  
"Wait, who's that?"  
The newspaper dropped. Ginny, her jacket half zipped over a pink sundress, was munching on cereal and eggs and gave Lestrade a tight smile.  
"Hello." She said, then pulled the paper back up to her face. Lestrade's eyebrow furrowed for just a moment. Then he looked at Sherlock for an explanation. Sherlock shrugged, not looking up from his screen.  
"This is Ginny." He said, trying to sound as uninterested with her as possible. "She's the product of an in-vitro fertilization involving a donated male component that occurred fourteen years ago."  
He uncomfortably shifted in his seat as Ginny and John glared at him. Lestrade looked confused. He sighed. "My...daughter." He mumbled.  
Lestrade took a step back, his eyes as big as saucers.  
"Your daugh..."  
Ginny sighed in exasperation and walked over to Lestrade.  
"It's already be established, for whatever reason, that it is extremely surprising my biological father sired a child. Please hold your gasps of shock and awe because I believe you came in here with information I might need."  
Lestrade just stared blankly at her.  
"There are two of him." He finally stuttered out. John walked over and patted his arm. Ginny flounced back to the table and picked up the paper.  
"Bunch of bleeding idiots around here." She mumbled.  
"Watch your language." Sherlock said absent-mindedly, still engrossed in his computer. The two of them seemed to realize what he said at once and glanced at each other, stunned. Sherlock looked alarmed and quickly cleared his throat, standing.  
"You were saying Lestrade?" He asked too loudly. Lestrade shook off his shock.  
"Um, yeah. Odd kidnapping case. Four in a row, they all follow a pattern: They're all young kids, they're all East Londoners and they all get taken on a day with a seven in it."  
Ginny frowned.  
"Yesterday was the 17th."  
Lestrade nodded.  
"Ten-year-old girl snatched walking home from the store. I need you to head over there."  
Sherlock and John busied themselves getting their coats and magnifying glass. Ginny zipped up her jacket and started walking after Greg. John held up a hand.  
"Whoa, where do you think you're going?"  
Ginny gave him a hard look.  
"To the crime scene."  
Lestrade and John exchanged a look.  
"I think this stuff is a little too intense for you, sweetie. Just watch some telly with Mrs. Hudson until we get back."  
Ginny looked slowly from Greg to John.  
"Too intense?" She said, her voice an octave higher than before. Lestrade stepped back nervously.  
"Now you've done it." Sherlock said briskly, wrapping his scarf around his neck. Ginny's hands had curled into fists. When she spoke, her voice was deadly quiet and measured.  
"First, I am perfectly capable of handling intense. It was pretty intense, trying to get here. Do you know where I live? CARDIFF."  
John's eyebrows furrowed.  
"Wait, you got all the way to London from Cardiff on your own? How?"  
"I took a bus." She said shortly. Then she turned back to Lestrade. "My _mother _was kidnapped. Don't you think, _maybe _, it might be a good idea to let me get as much information about the goings-on of an abductors' mind as I possibly can so we can _find_ my aforementioned mother?"  
John sighed and rubbed his head.  
"Sweetie-"

Sherlock walked by and through the open door, turning sharply just outside its threshold.  
"If you're capable of even the most basic deductions you'll realize Ginny is incredibly stubborn." He looked at her with a strange look in his eyes. Maybe amusement. Maybe admiration. "She'll come if she wants to." He stalked down the stairs, his coat billowing behind him.  
Lestrade and John looked at Ginny. She glared at the ground, fiddling with the hem of her dress.  
Lestrade sighed.

"C'mon." He said, waving his hand.


	5. Chapter 5

"So you and Sherlock are together?" Ginny asked on the ride over, nibbling the donut she'd insisted they buy for her. She and John sat in the back, Sherlock in shotgun while Lestrade drove. John cocked his head in confusion.  
"Together?"  
Ginny nodded.  
"As in life partners?"  
Lestrade snorted as John turned bright red.  
"No! Oh God, no."  
Ginny shrugged. "It's alright if you are. My neighbor Roger's got two mums."  
John didn't seem to have heard her. "_No_. No, no. We're just...no. No, no _no._" He stammered.  
"Nine 'no's. Really John, I thought you were a bit more mature than that." Sherlock scoffed from the front seat. John went positively scarlet. Ginny didn't seem to notice.  
"Well, what do you do then?"  
John shrugged, still trying to control his blushing.  
"We solve crimes. Protect the masses. Oh, and text. There's an outrageous amount of texting involved."  
"Sounds exciting." Ginny said, her voice free of sarcasm for a change.

John smiled. "It is."

"Here we are." Lestrade said. Sherlock sighed and braced himself for twice the stares and whispers he usually got as Ginny tumbled out of the car and followed him under the caution tape, asking Lestrade if she could have the rest of his breakfast sandwich.

* * *

John felt Sherlock's annoyance growing as they had to explain for the fourth time who Ginny was to the surrounding officers. Ginny herself had wandered off ten minutes before, poking through the files laying on the hood of a police car.  
"So, wait." Donovan held up her hands. "You're saying Freak...made a smaller Freak."  
"Let's go." Sherlock mumbled, taking John by the arm and jerking him away from the conversation as Donovan snorted and dissolved into laughter.  
Anderson walked up beside Ginny as her eyes flew across the papers.  
"Shouldn't you be in school?" He asked as Sherlock and John approached.  
"Shouldn't you stop sleeping with that Sargent woman when you have a wife?" She shot back. Anderson looked at her sharply.  
"Now, don't go believing everything he tells you-"  
"He didn't tell me, I can see it on your clothes. And her fingernails and the dust on your right eye's lashes."  
Anderson glowered at her. A snicker escaped John's lips. He quickly clamped his mouth shut, but he could've sworn he saw Sherlock smirking. Sherlock swept over the photos as Anderson stalked off.  
"Any luck?" He said dismissively, looking over the four young faces. He wasn't even paying attention when Ginny nodded.  
"It's really very obvious."  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow and scoffed.  
"Oh really."  
She flipped her hair out of her face.  
"Watch and learn, father." She turned to John, speaking quickly.  
"I know this girl-" She pointed to the oldest of the victims, a 15-year-old. "-And this boy. They both go to my school."  
"Friends of yours?" asked John. Ginny stared at him for a second like she didn't understand the question.  
"Strings of kidnappings, murders, robberies, they all start to follow a pattern." She continued. The phrase sounded familiar in John's ear.  
"Oh, did you read that on his website, sweetie?" He nodded towards Sherlock. Ginny frowned.  
"Why can't you just accept that I can figure things out on my own?"  
John looked startled.  
"I, um-"  
"I'm not his clone." She jerked her head towards Sherlock. Her voice rising. "I have my own mind, body. I'm capable of independent thought. All your 'sweeties' and 'loves'-What makes me so inferior to you?"  
John opened his mouth, than closed it. Sally snickered as she walked behind them.  
"She's firey, I like this one."  
"Stop sleeping with married men." Ginny snapped, her voice close to a shriek and her gaze not wavering from John's. Sally's smile faded and she glared at the little group, stalking off to lick her wounds.  
Sherlock ignored all of this, prodding the paper.  
"Go on."  
Ginny took a breath and calmed down. She gestured towards the pictures again. "All those types of serial crimes-All those incidents have something in common." She said "The only connection between these kids, the only thing they have in common is that their fathers both work for the Bank of England, in the investment quadrant." She looked up, a glint in her eye.  
"We need the employment information of the parents of the other two kids." She said to Sherlock.  
"It's corporate kidnapping." John said slowly, careful not to sound condescending. Ginny nodded.  
"Maybe somebody's daddy wasn't meeting their quota on the proper day." She raised her eyebrows.  
"After all, they're always taken on a seventh of a month."  
John ran over to tell Lestrade of the findings. Donovan gave him an incredulous look.  
"You want us to investigate the biggest bank in the country on the claims of a little girl?" She sputtered.  
John shrugged.  
"This one, yes."  
He nodded over to the car, where Sherlock was surveying Ginny's results with a sense of mild shock.  
"Brilliant." He murmured. Ginny rolled her eyes.  
"I know." She examined her fingernails, looking bored. "Can we go get pizza? I'm starving."  
John smirked as he turned back to Sally.  
"She takes after her father."


	6. Chapter 6

**(A/N: I'm really sorry about not updating Two Little Boys. It'll be up soon, scout's honor.)**

Over the next week, the residents of 221B fell into a strange sense of familiarity. John became used to Ginny running around their apartment, talking to herself, sifting through microscope slides and eating all their food.  
And Sherlock, try as he might to fight it, seemed to ignore her presence a little less everyday. Tuesday morning, John walked into the living space of the apartment to see Ginny sitting on the window sill, brushing her hair as she listened to Sherlock play the violin. Neither of them were acknowledging each other, but Ginny was absentmindedly bobbing her head with the music, and Sherlock had angled himself ever so slightly towards her. John stood stalk still, not wanting to break the spell.  
After the sonata finished Ginny gave three short claps, then starting braiding her hair, asking if they needed to get more iodine. Sherlock snapped back that he wasn't omnipotent and that she was perfectly capable of finding that out for herself.  
Everything was fine. Everything was starting to feel like normal, or as normal as life with Sherlock could be.  
Which, of course, meant everything was bound to go to hell.  
Ginny was eating a grilled cheese on the couch while John paid some bills. Then Sherlock pulled up his music stand, picked up his bow, and started to play once more. This time it was a sad, haunting melody.  
Ginny cocked her head, listening.  
"Is this Bach?"  
"It's an original." Sherlock said, making a note on the music in front of him.  
"It's called _Irene_." John said without thinking, signing the electricity bill. Sherlock shot him a warning glare.  
"Who's Irene?" Ginny said. Sherlock didn't answer. She rolled her eyes. "Your girlfriend? It's OK if you have a girlfriend. It's not as if you were ever with my..."  
Ginny's face fell as she faded off. She let out a strange, high-pitched groan. She clutched large chunks of her curls and pushed them up her head.  
"Oh my God." She said. "Oh my God, what on Earth am I doing?"  
She leapt from her seat, pushing past Sherlock, sending his music stand crashing to the floor. She ran into the kitchen and started shoving pots and pans and science equipment away, grabbing her notebook and feverishly flipping through the pages. John and Sherlock exchanged glances and raced in after her.  
"Ginny, what's the matter?"  
"I'm a terrible daughter is what's the matter!" She said. Her voice was unusually tight and emotional. "My mother has been missing for over a week and I'm sitting here listening to sonatas? I've fallen behind, we need to do work!"  
Sherlock sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  
"Ginny, why is this so important?"  
John and Ginny fell silent. Sherlock squinted and turned to John.  
"Not good?" He muttered. Ginny eyes flashed in anger. She skidded across the floor and smacked him across the face.  
"Ginny!" John yelled. Sherlock touched his cheek, his expression blank. Ginny blinked hard, seeming to come back into herself. She backed away slowly.  
"I'm sorry." She croaked. She turned and ran out the front door, slamming it behind her.  
John made to run after her, but Sherlock placed a hand on his chest.  
"Let me."  
He straightened his suit jacket and strode out of the apartment.  
Ginny was sitting on the stairs leading down to Mrs. Hudson's flat. She closed her eyes as Sherlock sat down next to her.  
"My mother is the one person I love in this universe." She said shakily. She wouldn't look at him. Sherlock said nothing, gazing at her. There are some thing a deduction just can't explain.  
"Ginny, I know this isn't easy for you." He said slowly. Ginny sighed.  
"Don't use that voice."  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "What voice?"  
Ginny wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket, turning to look at him.  
"Your patronizing-I'm-pretending-to-be-human voice."  
Sherlock looked at her, then smirked. Ginny sighed and looked at down at her Converse.  
"I'm a psychopath." She said. "It's hard for me to handle other people when I'm upset."  
"Understandable, other people are often insufferable idiots." Sherlock said. Then he paused and looked at her. "And you're not a psychopath. You're a sociopath."  
Ginny smirked. "A high-functioning one?"  
"At least moderately functioning." Sherlock stood, hesitated, and then offered her his hand.

**The Detective's Got a Daughter? UPDATE**  
**{Posted at 10:36 AM}**  
_She took it and they walked back in together. It was like something out of a cheesy Lifetime movie. You'd almost expect "You'll Be in My Heart" to play in the background as someone tearfully said "I'll always have a place in my heart for you."_  
_Although, usually those types of movies don't end with a call from Scotland Yard._

Ginny and Sherlock settled back down at the kitchen table and wordlessly passed slides and sheets of notebook paper back and forth.  
The phone rang in the next room. John went to answer it, still watching the duo.  
"Hullo." He said.  
"You better come down here." It was Lestrade. He sounded both confounded and amused. John cocked his head.  
"What happened, what's wrong?"  
"Nothing." Lestrade said. He chuckled incredulously. "John, she was RIGHT."  
"Who, Ginny? The kidnapping case?"  
John glanced over at her. Ginny seemed considerably calmer. Almost too calm, too quickly. Sherlock glanced at her every few seconds. His eyes were uneasy. John spoke in a whisper.  
"Yeah, we're coming. Be there in five."  
Ginny and Sherlock were watching him now. Ginny seemed to realize what was happening. She was already running to the door, her face glowing with self-satisfaction. Her eyes held a glint John couldn't name. He hung up and looked at Sherlock. He let out a chuckle of disbelief.  
"She's either got good genes or is just naturally clever."  
Sherlock still looked a little uncomfortable, but he nodded.  
"It's genes, alright." He said, unusually soft. "My genes."


	7. Chapter 7

John, Ginny and Sherlock walked home late that night, the roads starting to empty and lights shutting off as everyone went to bed.  
John raised his thermos of tea in Ginny's direction.  
"I still can't believe you were right." Ginny allowed herself a small smile. All signs of her earlier meltdown seemed to have vanished, and her face was aglow with the light that came from being right.  
"I usually am."  
"Yes, yes." Sherlock grumbled, checking messages on his cell phone as they walked.

_JM surveillance-where was the last place you saw him?_  
_-SH_

_He was in Cardiff less than a week ago._  
_-M_

The three had been in and around Scotland Yard for almost eight hours. Ginny's hunch had turned into a full blown investigation, which led to four terrified children being found on the top floor of the Bank of London's headquarters.  
John waved dismissively at Sherlock's grouchy manner.  
"Don't mind him. He's just jealous he didn't figure it out."  
Sherlock looked up sharply.  
"I am not." He said, unable to keep the childish tone from his voice. He glanced at Ginny before going back to his screen.  
"What you did though...that was good. That was clever."  
Ginny nodded at Sherlock, and the two stared at each other for a moment. Both faces were impossible to read. Then something caught Ginny's eye and she lit up. She pointed a few hundred yards ahead of them at a neon sign.  
"Can we go to McDonald's? I'm famished."  
John smiled. One of the few ways Ginny differed from Sherlock was her constant hunger. Forget going days without eating; She was lucky to go an hour. He pulled a couple bills from his pocket and handed them to her.  
"Go run ahead, we'll be there by the time you get your nosh."  
Ginny took off down the sidewalk at a breakneck speed.  
"Careful, watch out for cars!" Sherlock yelled after her, tearing his eyes away from his phone to watch her cross the street. John laughed. Sherlock looked at him, startled.  
"What?" He said indignantly. John raised his eyebrows.  
"Nothing, nothing." He paused. "'cept you've got dad shock."  
"I do not!" Sherlock's voice jumped an octave too high at that. John nodded.  
"Yeah, you do. Sudden, unexpected fatherhood. Takes time to get used to, I suppose."  
Sherlock opened his mouth, then hesitated. John noticed.  
"What?"  
Sherlock looked down at his phone.  
"Nothing."  
"Sherlock."  
"Never mind. It's just that I'm too old for this nonsense." Sherlock spat. John laughed.  
"You're thirty-four."  
"My father was years younger than that when I was a child." He said, scanning something he was reading on his phone.  
John paused, intrigued. He hadn't met any of Sherlock's family besides Mycroft, and their mother had only been mentioned in passing.  
"What's your dad like then?" John asked. Sherlock paused for a moment. Then he started typing more quickly on his phone, his eyes seeming determinedly focused on the little screen.  
"I don't know." He said evenly. "He left us when I was three."  
John stopped at that, turning to look at Sherlock with a mild shock on his face.  
"You're not serious?"  
Sherlock slammed his hands down to his sides, almost dropping his phone.  
"Of course I'm serious why would I lie about something like that?" His voice was uncharacteristically shaken.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't know." John squinted off into the darkness. "You know, you talk all the time, but you never say anything."  
Sherlock stared intensely at John for a moment, then turned back at his phone.  
"John, I've known Ginny existed for quite awhile."  
John raised his eyebrows.  
"Sorry, what?"  
Sherlock's refused to look at him as he spoke.  
"You know how my brother is, he knows everything about everyone. One of Ginny's files passed through him when she was about ten. He figured out who she was and he called me."  
"Mycroft told you? Why didn't you, I dunno, write to her, call her before?"  
Sherlock was still staring intently at his phone.  
"Legally, the only way we could be in contact was if _she_ found me. Which she has. So that's an irrelevant question." His voice took on a sharp edge.  
John held up his hands.  
"Geez, sorry. Forget I asked."  
Sherlock swallowed. "It's just-" His voice dropped just a tad, becoming a little uncertain. "-Who'd want me for a dad?"  
John's heart sank. He thought of feeding Sherlock some pep-talk for new parents, but decided he had too much respect for him. He looked at Ginny, who was coming out of the McDonald's now.  
"She does." He said firmly. Sherlock looked a little surprised at that.  
"John, you saw how she adores her mother. She can't wait to get away from me."  
John felt a pang in his stomach, remembering Ginny's earlier breakdown. He pushed on anyway.  
"She, wants to be a part of this." He insisted briskly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "The thinking, the espionage, the texting-"  
Sherlock smirked at that.  
"She does!" John insisted.  
Ginny waved from across the cross walk as John and Sherlock drew up to the other side. John walked halfway across the street.  
"Ginny," He called. "You said our lives sound exciting?"  
Ginny nodded slowly. John looked at Sherlock.  
"Don't you think Ginny could be a part of all that texting?" He asked, loudly enough for her to hear.  
Sherlock clasped his hands and held them in front of his waist, looking back and forth between Ginny and John.  
"Yes." He said. "Yes, I suppose she could."  
Ginny broke into a rare smile. She made to run across the street when her phone started ringing.  
She stopped and balanced the bag of food in the crook of her arm while she fished it out of her pocket.  
John and Sherlock rolled their eyes at it's pink and bedazzled exterior as she answered it.  
"Hello?" She said.  
Sherlock immediately knew something was wrong. The little color Ginny's face held vanished. She dropped the food bag on the sidewalk.  
"Who is this?" She yelled, her voice commanding. John gave Sherlock a nervous look. Across the street, Ginny's eyes got wide and panicked for the first time since Sherlock had known her.  
"Yes. Yes. I'll be there. Right there. Don't do anything. Don't move."  
She shoved her phone in her pocket. Sherlock and John ran out on the street and she met them in the middle of the road.  
"They've got my mum." She said, her voice sounding strangely soft and young.  
"Who's got your mum?" Sherlock said evenly, forever calm.  
Ginny shook her head in bewilderment, panicking to piece together some kind of deduction. "The man who was talking sounded mid-to-late thirties, he wasn't English..." She looked up at Sherlock. "They want me to come meet them."  
John looked at Sherlock worriedly.  
"My God, where?"  
Ginny shoved her phone back in her pocket, pulling her dark curls into a ponytail with her free hand.  
"The Waterloo bridge." She said breathlessly. "The bit that overlooks the Thames." John tucked his thermos into his bag and ran to the other side of the street, glancing around bewildered.  
"How...how do we get there, what do we do?" He called from the sidewalk.  
"Take a cab down five blocks, make a right, two blocks, then make a left." Sherlock said automatically, reading from his mental street map. He grabbed Ginny's arm.  
"Ginny, it could be a trap."  
Right at that moment a taxi came barreling down the street. John barely had time to call out. Without thinking, Sherlock grabbed Ginny and held her to his chest, shielding her as the car made a wild swerve to avoid them.  
When the street was clear once more Sherlock awkwardly loosened his tight embrace on Ginny.  
"It could be dangerous." He reiterated, looking slightly to the left of her eyes.  
Ginny slipped her hand into his.  
"Why do you think we're going?"  
Sherlock's lips slowly twitched into a smile.

_{Posted at 11:26 P.M}_

_I could almost hear him thinking 'that's my girl'._

**(A/N: I must inform you that beautiful line "You talk all the time, but you never say anything" Was actually plucked (plagiarized) straight from "The Doctor's Daughter" Itself. Please thank Stephen Greenhorn for it.)**


	8. Chapter 8

The rickety old bridge was dark and silent at night. John, Ginny and Sherlock stood at one end, squinting into the darkness. John cupped his hands around his mouth.  
"Hello? Laura? Laura Smith, are you there?"  
There was a brief pause. Then-  
"Help! Help! Somebody please help-"  
Her terrified cries were muffled then, as if someone had shoved a pillow over her mouth. Ginny made a face of pain, but didn't run towards the sound. Sherlock stepped forward.  
"Whoever is restraining her, I advise you show yourself immediately."  
There was another quiet spell. Then a figure emerged from the shadows. It was a thin man, his face still darkened by the night. Then there was a snap, and the bridge was flooded with lights from above.  
"Hello darlings!"  
John grabbed Ginny by the arm and yanked her behind him. Sherlock locked his jaw and stared straight ahead.  
Moriarty grinned widely at them. Behind him stood a tall, muscular man in ripped army fatigues, holding Laura in a choke-hold.  
"Ginny!" She gasped, her eyes panicked. She flailed, trying to reach her daughter. The man tightened his grip on her and she could say no more.  
Moriarty did a little spin in the middle of the bridge, delighted with himself.  
"Did you like the new twist? The domestic approach? Sebastian didn't think it would work." He waved in the direction of the muscular man. "He said 'the machine' wouldn't care about who's blood was spilled. But I knew there was a _softie_ in there somewhere!" He made vague gestures of jokingly punching Sherlock in the abdomen. "And when I found out about little Hermione here, how could I resist?"  
Ginny looked up at Sherlock, her face showing just a hint of fear.  
"That's him. That's the man from the phone. I can tell."  
Sherlock didn't take his eyes off Moriarty. He spoke slowly and deliberately, trying to make sense of what was happening as he went.  
"So you took her mother, knowing she'd-"  
"Run to her daddy." Moriarty sneered. "And little Luna would bring both her parents to me."  
Ginny clung to John's arm. Her face was blank and her eyes were cool, but she struggled to keep her voice even.  
"I would never do this on purpose. I've never even met him."  
John held up a hand to shush her.  
"I know." He said softly.  
"It's alright Ginny." Sherlock muttered.  
Moriarty laughed. It echoed off the creaky structure.  
"I'd love to thank the kid. I can't stand looking at her face, though." He leaned towards John and spoke in a loud whisper. "Too much of a resemblance."  
Sherlock lunged forward. Moriarty pulled a gun out of his suit pocket and lazily pointed it at Sherlock.  
"Careful now, Papa bear. You wouldn't want anyone thinking you care about this brat."  
"Shut. Up." Sherlock said through clenched teeth. Moriarty cocked his head.  
"I thought you'd have figured out who took Mummy by now. It's was pretty obvious." He sighed contentedly. "I even left a little of my suit for Lavender Brown here to find."  
Sherlock and John looked at each other as it dawned on them both.  
_Cardiff. The Italian suit._  
John cringed. "Stupid, _stupid_." He mumbled to himself. Sherlock looked like he was fighting the urge to do the same.  
"Then again, maybe having the little girl around is slowing you down." Moriarty smirked. "Maybe you're attached to her just enough that that big old family man heart will be burned out of you." He licked his lips in anticipation. "It'll be on fire when we snap Tonks' little neck while you watch."  
A shot rang out as Sherlock yanked his own gun from his suit pocket and fired it above Moriarty's head.  
"Her name is Ginny." His voice was calm, but his eyes were on fire. Moriarty's face betrayed a second of shock, but he quickly settled back into himself.  
"You shouldn't have done that. You might've made Sebastian upset." His dark eyes narrowed. "He gets violent when he's upset."  
Sebastian tightened his grip around Laura's head. She made strangled gasps for air.  
"Mum!" Ginny screamed. Her eyes were suddenly blazing with the same mad, intense fire they'd held in the flat that morning. She wrestled her way out of John's grasp, bolted across the bridge and yanked Sherlock's gun out of his hands. With shaking fingers, she pointed it at Moriarty.  
"Ginny don't!" Sherlock yelled. Moriarty made a loud, faux-horrified gasp of shock. He turned to her.  
"Oh! Oh good! This is a _fun_ surprise! I don't usually get little girls pointing guns at me!"  
"LEAVE MY MUM ALONE!" Ginny screamed. Moriarty rubbed his hands together and leaned down to look at Ginny.  
"Since this is such a special occasion, let's play a game." He pointed his gun back at Sherlock. "A game of choices, you Holmes are good at those, right?" He paused for a moment, cradling the bombshell.

"You can kill me." He licked his lips in anticipation,

"Or I can kill daddy."


	9. Chapter 9

John gasped and pulled his own gun out from his jacket.

Moriarty turned with an irritated grimace, as if noticing him for the first time.  
"Johhnnny." He whined, stamping his foot. "No one invited you." He gave an annoyed sigh. "Oh, Marcus?"

Another pair of arms came out of nowhere, grabbed John and sent his gun to the floor. He tried to kick him away, put his army training to some use, but Marcus was too strong. He struggled helplessly as Moriarty turned back to Sherlock.

"If I'm going out, at least I can make Sherlock Holmes watch his daughter become a murderer while I'm at it." He smirked. "I'm all about destroying you. And that would kill most people."

A wicked grin spread on his face, and he turned his attention back to Ginny.  
"But then, you and your daddy aren't like most people."

He leaned down to be level with her. She narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on the gun.

"Aren't you loving this, Ginny?" Moriarty continued monologuing, a slight drawl in his voice. "I'm a psychopath. You said yourself, you think people like me are BRILLIANT."

Ginny swallowed, not making eye contact with her mother or Sherlock. She had stopped screaming, but she still looked like a live wire to John. About to go off, to do something wild and crazy, any second.

Moriarty continued.

"You told your daddy geniuses like us end up one way, like this." He raised his hands, his gun no longer on anyone.

"Do it." He whispered, licking his lips. "It's all people like us do Ginny. It's s'all we are. Might do it cleverly but in the end, we're all just killers."

Sherlock clenched his fists.

"Ginny, don't." He whispered through gritted teeth. Ginny didn't look at him.

"You can't have evil without the genius." She murmured to herself. Moriarty nodded.

"No. You can't." He held out his arms, displaying his entire torso unprotected.

"Don't listen to him." Sherlock raised his voice. Laura's eyes filled with tears.

Ginny slowly looked down at the gun in her hands.

"But I have a choice." She mumbled. Moriarty looked confused for a split second.

Ginny darted past Moriarty, to the edge of the bridge, and whirled around to face him, her gun still pointed at his chest.

"We all have a choice." She said more loudly.

She dropped the gun on the ground and squared back her shoulders.

Laura started her muffled screaming again. Sherlock went whiter than a ghost.

Ginny turned suddenly to Laura, her curls pulling out of their ponytail and flying loose in her eyes, which held the hints of sorrow.

"Mum, I love you. And I'm sorry, but this is the only way to save you. He'll leave you be once you've no connection to this."

"Ginny, get away from there." Sherlock said warningly.

Ginny turned and looked at Sherlock. Her eyes were alive with light.

"I'm not afraid." She said softly. "I made a choice. The proper choice."

Sherlock tried to step towards her, but John's captor pointed his rifle at Sherlock.

Sherlock froze, and turned so his eyes were only on Ginny.

"You're going to be brilliant." He said softly, desperately. His face was as impassive as always, but his voice carried a hint of pleading.

"You're extraordinary. You'll come stay with John and I whenever you'd like, we'll do everything. The sky's the limit." He swallowed. "For my daughter, there is no limit."

Ginny nodded.

"Thank you." She whispered. "I...Thanks, dad."

She turned to face Moriarty's gun head on.

"Missed me." She said with a grin. Moriarty fired straight at her.

But it was too late.

Ginny had already jumped.

There was just a glint of dark hair falling down, down to the river.  
John saw what happened next like a scene with the mute button on. Laura screamed and thrashed. Some sort of maternal adrenaline allowed her to break free of Sebastian's grip and run to the edge of the bridge. Moriarty laughed maniacally as Laura sobbed.

A black jacket was twisting and swirling in the river currents below. John saw a flash of curls swallowed up by the water. Even if they could swim out there before she drowned, the impact of the fall would've broken every bone in her body. John felt himself getting dizzy, and Marcus pushed him to the ground.

Sherlock ran to the edge of the bridge, peering over, left and right, up above.

"She must have done something, anything." He muttered to himself. John pushed himself up from the ground.

"Sherlock-"

"She was like me! She was clever. If we wait..." He faded off as he looked into John's sad eyes.

"Sherlock, she's gone." John tried to stand as Moriarty and Sebastian swaggered down the bridge. "She's like you, but...not enough."

Sherlock closed his eyes.

"No." He mumbled. His eyes flared open and he stared at Moriarty's forgotten gun, it's target never exactly reached. "She was too much like me."

John bowed his head as Sherlock took a deep, shuddering breath.

Then he picked up the abandoned gun and ran up behind Moriarty. He grabbed him around the neck and held the gun to his temple. Laura let out a hysterical cry by the edge of the bridge.

"No." John whispered.

"You said we were all just alike." Sherlock said to Moriarty. He spoke quickly and softly. "Ginny, you and I. But you're wrong." He started chuckling humorlessly, bitterly.

"And do you know why?" He lowered the gun and shoved Moriarty to the ground. Any signs of laughter vanished from his face.

He held the gun out, clicked the safety on, and dropped it.

"Because we...she..._I_ never would."

Moriarty looked just the smallest bit uncomfortable. He stood and brushed himself off. He motioned to Sebastian, and quick as a flash, they and Marcus were gone.

John tried to help Laura up from the ground. She thrashed around and started screaming.

"I think she's in shock." John said, noticing he himself felt nauseous and numb at the same time. "Sherlock, we've got to call Lestrade, get this sorted out." He said firmly. Sherlock didn't respond. "Sherlock."

Sherlock was looking down at his shoes, and dropped the gun once closed his eyes and let out a long sigh before going to help John.

And in that second, he missed a glimpse of something swinging beneath the bridge's boards.


	10. Chapter 10

Laura moved to America just two and a half weeks after Ginny died. There was no body to bury, and the grief the city held was too much for her.

She had tried to press charges against Sherlock for putting their daughter in danger, but a few of Mycroft's well placed connections managed to write a big enough check to talk her down.

She'd also tried to sue Moriarty for kidnapping and attempted murder, but to do that she had to find him, and everyone knew catching him was like looking for a raindrop in the ocean.

John had seen her on the street, the day before she left. She looked like she hadn't slept in years, sadness and anger radiating from her every pore. He hadn't been able to face her, looking down and running to the other side of the road.

In the weeks following, Sherlock reacted the best ways he knew how. He composed sad music, stayed up all night thinking, and watched hours and hours of rubbish TV. Once he fainted at a crime scene because he hadn't eaten in five days.

He brought her up only once, on a rainy night not unlike the one when she had shown up at their door. Watching the drops pound the window, he said softly.

"She was really brilliant, wasn't she? An extraordinary child."

John was silent for a long while. Then he gave a small smile.

"Yeah." He said softly. "Yeah, she really was."

**The Blog of John H. Watson  
Ginny  
{Posted at 11:59 P.M}**

_He asked me after that, "What do we do now?"  
I've been a solider for almost ten years. I've been on a battlefield. I've seen men I knew, men I cared about, fall before their time. I've heard them choke out their last breath, and I've felt them die in my arms. And I've asked myself the same question.  
What do I do now?  
It's taken awhile, but I finally have an answer.  
And I told it to him.  
We go on. We live.  
And we remember._

Sherlock seemed to start healing, start getting better after that. In time he smirked and scoffed and even held John's children when they came along. Molly and John called their daughter Martha Ginny Watson, and eventually Sherlock could even hear that without inwardly flinching.

To the outside world, 'the machine' started working again, all it's cogs and gears functioning as usual.

Though, for the rest of his life, whenever it rained, he made sure to spend a few minutes looking out the window.

Some called it mad, the way he waited and watched and hoped for someone who was so clearly gone.

But you know how fathers are.

* * *

_Epilogue_

A few hours after the incident on the bridge, after the coppers crawling the place had gotten in their squad cars and driven home, a man in tattered army fatigues wandered the banks of the River Thames.

The first light of day shown over Sebastian as he combed the river, looking for the girl's body. He always made sure to clean up Jim's messes. The last thing he wanted was to get dragged through another terrorist trial just because Moriarty had left a head lying around.

The entire shore seemed deserted. However, as he bent over to look through a large pile of dead leaves and driftwood, he heard soft footsteps behind him.

He hadn't even turned around when someone had ripped the gun from his holster and shoved the head into the back of his neck.

"You're going to walk away now." A cool, female voice said. "And if you value your continued existence on this planet, you'll never speak a word of this incident to your boyfriend or anybody else."

Sebastian made a grab for the gun. The hand twisted it away and held it against the top of his skull. He closed his eyes and sighed. A smart man knows when he's beaten.

"How are you alive? We saw you fall."

"You saw a jacket fall. And a bit of hair. But little girls like me are notorious for being good at monkey bars." She laughed. "Hanging onto the bottom of that bridge was something I could've done in year 3."

Sebastian tried to disarm her once again and failed.

"You're just a kid. You can't go running off into the world alone."

Ginny smirked, walking to face Sebastian, still casually pointing his gun at him.

"Actually, I think I can. It's sort of my thing. What are you going to do, phone my dad?"

Ginny kept her eyes trained on him and she walked sideways to the river. In one swift movement, she pulled a familiar, torn black jacket from the muck, and twisted it dry with her free hand.

Sebastian squinted. Surrounded by the early morning sunlight, in that tattered pink dress and dirty black coat, Ginny looked like she was glowing.

Like an angel, he thought. A dark, sociopathic, extraordinary angel.

"What are you going to do?"

Ginny's grey eyes lit up.

"I'll do whatever I please. Solves crimes, protect the masses..." She started walking away backwards, a big grin breaking open her face.

"And a lot of texting." She backed farther and farther away, into the sunrise.

"I've got a whole lot of texting to do."


End file.
